


And The Cycle Goes On

by Wolff_Night



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolff_Night/pseuds/Wolff_Night
Summary: The spirit of the hero would always be revived in order to slay Ganon. That was how it was to go, and when the two met, they had accepted it.However, it also happened that they had grown to like each other quite a bit.
Relationships: Ganondorf & Link (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 43





	1. First Memory

Night grasped the world, the bright yellow sand of the day surrendering into a soft peach, spreading like a blanket across the desert. It lulled Gerudo Town to sleep with its gentle warmth, the cobblestones glimmering in the lantern light.

The town itself seemed ready to tuck in, the vendors exhausted from a long day of advertising their wares. They each packed their things, making their ways home in a drunken-like trance, in sleep’s clutches. Yet, not even the most tired of them would dare to leave a single thing behind, not if they valued it. The stalls became completely barren, even the decorations adorning the counters accounted for.

Even Vah Naboris was asleep, standing still against the desert, and Link wondered if Urbosa and Zelda were as exhausted as the rest of the desert.

Gerudo Town was a tired town. Gerudo Town was an empty town.

And nighttime was the perfect time to get a pressing matter resolved.

Link sat on a slab of cobblestone, next to the goddess statue. An isolated area, it was perfect.

He wrestled the right shoe off of his foot, throwing it down as his toes wrapped around the cold breeze, red and irritated. He ripped the left one off, cast it away, too, and let a sigh flutter the cloth over his mouth. The pinching of the shoes was gone, and all that left him with was a slow heartbeat of pain in his feet.

He rubbed at his soles, massaging them with deep strokes as he watched the shadows along the wall flicker with the light, like fireflies.

His sword-the sword that sealed the darkness-slept against his back, as weary as he. The fireflies along the wall allowed him to close his eyes, have a moment of reprieve-

An elongated shadow passed over the wall, whipping through the fireflies.

Link’s eyes flew open, his sword was awake in his hands, and he was on his feet, his sore, aching feet.

The night was still, the lanterns continuing to flicker. Nothing was there. All was well.

Link breathed in, going to settle down again, until it pierced the air.

Laughter.

Link could not tear his eyes away from the shadow climbing up the wall, like a blockade against the stone. Knees bent, elbows drawn in, Link leaped into the archway.

The archway was the only segment of the town left in darkness. Yet, it was the second segment of town occupied. A strong pillar was visible within the confines of the lazy shadows, and it moved.

A person separated themselves from the shadows-no, not Link realized-

A man.

A man he'd been warned about, a man he'd been advised to keep his distance from.

“How obvious of you to bring that thing here.” His eyes, slanted in judgement, dragged over to his sword, which sparkled against the blackness.

Link’s eyebrows furrowed, and he clutched the hilt so hard that his knuckles went a ghastly white. The cloth hanging over his face fluttered in tune with his shallow breath, his mouth half open.

A smirk climbed up the man’s face. “Always so predictable, your kind.”

His hair was a wildfire upon his head, swept back in a ponytail and flame colored; it was as bright as his eyes, which were amber and glowed like oppressing little lights. His eyebrows perked up, expectant. Predictable.

For a man hailed as a king, he didn't look the part. His chest, broad and muscular from regular exertion, was bare, and a pair of light fabric pants adorned his legs, red where Link’s were blue.

Then, the man cleared his throat and spoke. “Your name is Link. Mine is Ganondorf.” He projected, and his voice rumbled, but it was a soft declaration of authority, as though he were speaking to a peasant; like a king.

Link’s breath hitched, but he did not, for even a moment, let down his sword. He knew his name. How?

“You are Hylia’s best,” he stated. “How… intriguing.”

The indignation was a knot in Link’s chest, and he inched closer, his sword slithering further out, where it pressed into Ganondorf’s chest.

“Lay down your weapon. This is not a play session.” 

Link went to take another step forward when he glanced over to Ganondorf’s hip. There was no scabbard.

In fact, Ganondorf was completely unarmed.

His sword leapt back, and he drew it close to him like a shield.

Ganondorf laughed again. “Careful where you swing that toy. It is rather sharp.” Then, he turned and his back was an impenetrable wall which Link could not hope to break through. “Until next we meet, hero.”

Link watched him saunter back into the shadows; he watched him, not moving.

Then his sword clattered to the ground and he was no longer a hero-just a scared boy playing a role.


	2. Second Memory

The sun bore down on the earth, stabbing its rays through the inhabitants of Gerudo Town. Already, the musky smell of sweat was heavy on the air from the masses of bodies so near to one another.

Everywhere there was space, there were people. They lounged in the shade of palm trees, engaging in loud chatter, or stayed inside of their houses, their windows a vortex into domestic lives brimming with laughter.

But most of all, people swarmed the streets. They danced about, swinging from one stall to another, pointing to things and spiraling into conversation, the vendors always engaging them.

Everywhere one looked in Gerudo Town, there was motion.

Link himself was still, observing the glittering assortment of precious gems. Presented before him on sandstone pillars, it was like they were being offered to the gods themselves. It was the perfect way to forget about his run in with Ganondorf, and to indulge himself. He could have fun-Urbosa had told him so.

He reached into his pocket to gauge his rupee count, though all that greeted him was a meager handful. The only thing he would be able to afford with this amount was poultry.

When he turned to meet Jade’s gaze, her eyes softened around the edges. “It’s alright,” she assured him, “come back when you’ve got the funds. You’re always welcome here.”

His nod was slow, solemn. He trudged toward the door with an uneven gait, his shoes still rubbing against his skin-

The pain flew out of his mind when a voice pierced the din.

“Thief! Thief!”

At once, Link shot through the doorway into the light, his head whipping around. In a sea of people, he didn’t know where to even begin his search-then a man raged like a wildfire through the crowd.

An awfully familiar man with a head of fire red hair.

Even though his heart sank, he forced himself forward, his shoes exploding against the cobblestone as he hared after Ganondorf, diving into the crowd of people, ducking under elbows and dodging bodies in his way.

Ganondorf’s massive build and the clunky jangle of his jewelry made the chase an easy one, and once Link broke free of the crowd, he made a beeline toward him, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

The two passed underneath the previous night’s archway, Link going to draw his sword when- 

A spear stopped Link’s trajectory, and he caught himself just in time to avoid ramming into it.

His eyes shot up to see not one, but two guards, one in front of him, and one guarding Ganondorf’s escape. Both wore scowls, and their grip on their weapons made them seem like extensions of their hands rather than golden poles.

“You,” growled the one in front of the exit, “how did you reach the marketplace unsupervised?”

“Well, I’m old enough to go on my own now,” he retorted, his lip quirking up.

“Don’t play smart!” she snapped. “Empty your pockets. Now.”

Now that Link could do so, he peered over the spear and took a good look at Ganondorf-gone was the half dressed man of last night; before him stood a king. A golden headpiece gripped his head, his crown. In fact, he was drowning in jewelry; a necklace, a ring on each finger of his left hand, and long, dangling earrings adorned him. A dark blue sash covered him from right shoulder to stomach, covered in bright yellow dots and topped with a twinkling golden belt that held his pants up, as decorated and colorful. And, this time, he carried a weapon-a massive spear speckled with rubies, as large and threatening as he.

This Ganondorf wore the appearance of a king.

He made a show of patting himself down, running his fingers along each wrinkle, even over his bare skin where he couldn’t have even hidden anything.

“Hurry up!”

“I’m being thorough,” he insisted. “I wouldn’t want to miss anything.”

He dragged it out a few moments more, before, finally, he drew things out of crevices and anywhere there was a gap.

Link watched his loot hit the ground-children’s dolls and rubber balls and a threaded necklace that was three sizes too small to fit around his own neck, much less Ganondorf’s.

The items were completely useless.

“Is that all?” barked the guard.

“That’s all.”

She nodded to the guard in front of Link, who motioned him to step away. He did.

“Is it necessary for… her to be here?” he grunted in his direction.

“This is a public area, and you chose to steal. Anybody can watch what happens to you.”

He was pressed against the wall, her hands nimble over his body as she searched every fold, every nook and cranny.

“Alright,” she said and he shifted, “since that’s all you ha-”

Disturbed by Ganondorf’s movement, a piece of meat escaped onto the ground with a slap right from under his pant leg.

Gruuuuumble, his stomach groaned. 

Immediately, Ganondorf glanced over to Link, his face dark and wrinkled with humiliation. Link only stared back, pupils large and face slack.

Four hands grappled his body, gripping his elbows and dragging him through the sand. “Your failure to comply is not tolerated, Your Majesty,” the guard once at the door spat.

Even while the guards wrestled him to the archway, Ganondorf twisted his head to see Link, who stood glued to the ground for what felt like an hour-then, at once, he leaped forward and sliced through the guard’s path.

“What are you-” they began, then they saw it.

Link’s hand was brimming with rupees, glistening and bright. Just enough for poultry.

Ganondorf’s face scrunched in like a cork. “What are you doing?!”

The guards glanced at the rupees, then back at him.

“A lovely sentiment,” one started.

“But he still must be punished,” finished the other.

Again, Link held out the rupees, his mouth open with a wordless plea, and for not the first time he wished that his Sheika slate could be updated. 

The first guard, sensing his plight, slowed her pace. “...there could be an alternative to jail,” she mumbled.

“He committed a crime,” reminded the second. “That’s where criminals go.”

Ganondorf’s voice boomed, “I’ll repay the vendor with the money!”

The two came to a halt, glanced at each other, then at Link. Their voices, soft yet still firm, mingled in the air for minutes. 

Finally, the second guard’s shoulders slumped, and she nodded. 

The first guard turned to Link and held out her hand, her other still hooked around Ganondorf’s elbow.

With a sigh of relief, he pressed the rupees into her palm.

As they escorted him away, Ganondorf’s eyes locked onto Link’s, his lips pulled up in a snarl. “I don’t owe you ANYTHING.”

And then Link was standing alone.

So much for a relaxing trip.


	3. Third Memory

When the sun crept up the sky on his third day in Gerudo Town, Zelda’s Sheika slate vibrated-the update!

Eyes wide open, he snatched it up; he stole a few glances around the inn. But it made itself clear that its dark and dusty atmosphere was not the place for such an occasion. And he was here to enjoy himself-why not sightsee, he figured. Quiet as he could, Link slipped out of bed-barefoot-and, after a few cautious glances from the doorway, ambled into the open air of the empty marketplace. 

Against the dull light of dawn, Gerudo Town seemed to be a dreamscape right out of a child’s imagination. Link exhaled. The stillness was a welcome change, he decided. And nobody, not even an intimidating king, was around to disturb it. 

With a grin, he leaped onto the wall and slung himself over the archway, his feet dangling off the edge. Air smelling of creosote and framed in gentle light, it was all he had hoped for. Something that he didn't have to throw away away after using, something that wouldn't crumble if it got splashed, or had to be replenished like paper.

Link cradled the Sheika slate in his arms-it was sturdy and cool to the touch, yet lightweight and easy to hold-and with trembling fingers, turned it on. Blue light blasted against his eyes, and then _it_ was there-displayed with the other runes was the symbol of a quill. 

Exactly as Zelda had promised. 

With the confident flick of his hand, the translucent blue quill materialized in front of him, hovering over the screen, beckoning him to take it. Slowly, _slowly,_ his hand reached out and closed around it. 

Purah had done a number on it-it was light as, well, a feather. It was soft like deer hide, and it fit right into his palm. It was made for him, after all. 

His eyes flickered to the screen, where bridges of lines took shape, inviting him to set his words upon them. 

He bit his lip-what would be the right thing to put? Given the occasion, it should be something pompous. Something that screamed, _LINK WAS HERE!_ And as soon as he had thought it, the quill slammed onto the screen, building an empire across that bridge, vast cityscapes of letters. This was what he had waited for. What he had longed for. 

His heart pounding in his chest, Link read what he had constructed. 

_Hi. I’m Link._

...well, it was a start. 

Still, as simple as it was, he knew that it was powerful-the phrase had brought the glimmer of tears to his eyes; having the ability to write it was everything he could have asked for. In that moment, he and the feather were the same. Light and of ancient origin, making itself into something new. He raised his fist in triumph, a grunt of glee flying from his mouth-

“What are you doing?” squeaked a tiny voice from below. 

Link nearly toppled off of the wall. 

He clung to the Sheika slate like a lifeline, and peered over the edge. 

The girl's eyes were giant green jewels that occupied half of her face, and her face and body was plump from either meals or childish distribution of fat-Link couldn’t tell. Her clothes were a soft red, the top breathable and her pants light. She, too, was barefoot. 

“What are you doing?” she repeated. 

The panic in Link’s chest crept away. She was merely a child-an alone one, at that. Link leapt off of the wall, and crouched down in front of her. 

‘I was just,’ he wrote, considering himself for a moment, ‘sitting around.’ He stared at the screen, and it was a few moments before he showed it to her. 

“Oh. What’s that?” She pointed a chubby finger at the Sheika slate. 

He blinked. How was he to explain such an ancient piece of technology to a small girl? His quill quivered in his hand for what seemed like centuries before he put:

‘Something that helps me talk to people.’ 

“But you aren’t talking.”

‘Write to people, then.’ 

“Like me?”

He smiled. ‘Like you.’

His joy reflected in her, and she began to bounce on the balls of her feet. 

Taking that as a sign to continue, he wrote, ‘What’s your name?’

She froze like she had been trapped inside of a glacier, her grin obliterated. Her words were small when she spoke. “I can’t tell you.”

‘Why not?’ 

“...cause you’re a stranger.” 

The girl was right; she’d probably been taught to avoid those she didn’t know well. Though, she wasn’t great at it. 

Deliberating over his words, he finally put:

‘If I tell you my name first, will you tell me yours? I won’t be a stranger after that.’

Her lips pursed, and she twiddled her thumbs, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “But…” Her voice faltered, and there was a stretch of silence. He waited for her to finish.

Finally, she let out a breath, and she regained her animation. Her head bobbed up and down, a smirk on her face. 

“Okay.”

He wrote the words slowly, more pristine than before. 

‘Hi. I’m Link.’ 

She giggled, her voice loud. “Makeela! Or, um, Riju.”

He figured that now that she was comfortable, he would drop the question that’d been tugging at him:

‘What are you doing out here alone, Riju?’ 

“Walking around. I got bored in the castle,” she admitted. 

A castle. 

That was where royals lived. 

He dodged the obvious, and pointed to the sandstone structure right in the middle of town; it was impossible to miss with the palm trees nestling on top of it. 

‘That one?’

“Mhm! Me and my brother live there.” 

_Hylia, kill me now._

There was no skirting around it. He took the direct approach. ‘He’s probably worried about you, you know. You should go back.’ 

“Awww! But I haven’t been out that long!” 

He stood, extending his hand to her. ‘I’ll walk you back.’ 

She puffed up her cheeks and popped the air out of them with her hands in some sort of defiance. When she saw that he was undeterred, she groaned. “Ooookayyy…” 

Hand in hand, they reached the castle. The sun had, at long last, reached its proper throne in the sky. The sandstone was a mellow yellow, and the room inside seemed to call to him. He resisted the urge, though-for now. 

“Bye bye!” Riju giggled. “See you again sometime?”

He nodded, letting her go. A proud grin cupped his face as he looked upon her; basked in light, wrapping around her head like a halo, he felt that if she were here, the place couldn’t be so bad. As she disappeared inside, he decided that he’d return. Not only to see her, but to see him.

He would meet Ganondorf again, and they would each be kings in their own rights. 

Overhead, the sun was bright. So, so bright.


	4. Fourth Memory

The heat bubbled in the air, distorting the desert into a sizzling hellscape. In an instance like this, Link would be dressed for the occasion-in a way, he was. But now, on top of his breathable clothing was an army of jewelry. Large golden necklaces, bulky bracelets, wrist and leg cuffs, and to top it off, tiny topaz earrings.

Such was his punishment for wanting to play the part of a king.

He hadn’t expected Jade to be so enthusiastic about his meeting with Ganondorf. She’d emptied the shop’s storage to loan to him when he’d confided in her to accommodate him.

“He’s tricky-but don’t let him get the upper hand,” she’d said as she tightened his necklace. “We have a saying: ‘Fight to the death, then keep fighting’!”

Her words would have been encouraging at any other moment in time. But, as he slugged up the stairs, sweating in places he’d never sweated before, the only thing that Link would be fighting was heat exhaustion... and, of course, his unfitting shoes.

He stumbled up the stairs, and as soon as he did, a voice blasted, “State your business!”

A snake coiled around his throat. He _had_ none. He hadn’t even told Riju he would show up-bravery, he realized, not for the first time, did not equal intelligence.

Still, his hand drew out the Sheikah slate.

“Stop. Whatever it is, you are not welcome here.”

There was the voice that could entrance an entire army into his bidding. The voice of ultimate authority, rivaled only by the goddess Hylia herself:

The true king, Ganondorf. Arms crossed, pupils daggers, he looked ready to pulverize him.

Link sheathed the Sheikah slate. They were both weaponless; yet one would still become the victor of this unspoken battle.

‘Fight to the death. Then keep fighting.’

_No._ If he wanted to win any sort of battle, especially this one, he would first need to gather his courage. Here was his ultimate enemy. Not yet a monster, but a man.

Monsters, he could deal with. Men… men, he would have to work on. Still, he felt that warmth cradle his soul-not scorching, like the sun, but gentle against the skin, a campfire within him.

Bravery.

He lifted his gaze as his Sheikah slate flew into his hands, and Ganondorf stared right back at him. The moment the spark ignited inside of Link he arched a brow, but his voice was smoother, softer, when next he spoke.

“Leave.”

Link shook his head, the jewelry jingling against his chest. He summoned the quill to his hand, and with one word, had a calloused fist rip him off the ground and tug him to his face.

“What?! What in the eight heroines do you want with Makeela?!”

Link began to scribble a response, ripples of sweat dribbling down his chest, eyes bleary and breath ragged in his throat-

When the voice of an angel sang in his ears, bathing him in grace and protecting him from certain death.

“What-oh! Link! Hi!”

Riju shot out of the doorway, a blur of a girl that the guards could not even attempt to stop. She rolled between Ganondorf’s legs and peered up at Link.

“How did you know I would be here?” she chirped, as though his life were not in mortal danger.

“Makeela, go inside,” Ganondorf hissed. “You and I are going to have a long talk.”

She glared up at him. “But Link’s here! I wanna talk with her instead!”

“Makeela-”

Her face scrunched up like a small red balloon. “She’s my friend! I wanna talk!”

Ganondorf’s hard gaze split in two, and he glimpsed at Link-a sweaty defenseless Hylian. With a sigh that could rumble mountains, he dropped him, his jewelry clattering against the ground.

Riju was beside him in an instant, offering her hand with a smile that put the sun’s rays to shame. “Are we gonna play now?”

“Riju,” Ganondorf muttered, “go inside. I’ll… _we’ll_ be with you in a moment.”

“Okay! See you, Link!”

As soon as the castle swallowed her, Ganondorf towered above him. “My sister seems to like you.”

Link didn’t dare move.

“The reason why intrigues me…” His voice dropped an octave, and his face was stone again. “But until you tell me why, behave yourself.”

Ganondorf’s boulder of a fist tightened around Link’s forearm and yanked him up, wobbling and dazed. The air around the doorway seemed to repel him, whispering of his demise, but the guards created the illusion of safety, parting to allow him entry. So, sweaty and confused though he was, he held his head high and followed Ganondorf into the castle. 

It was as magnificent as he expected. As soon as he pierced the barrier, the smell of rich cacti seduced him, warm in his nostrils, spreading their vanilla fragrance around him. Gems mounted the sandstone walls, glistening in the low lamplight. They stretched toward the throne, mightier than even King Rhoam’s. A colossal collection of precious metals cluttered the sandstone. It was visible only if one squinted between the cracks.

It was a proud throne.

_A proud throne for a proud ruler,_ Link reflected, not missing Ganondorf’s smirk.

“This way, Link!” Riju called, drawing his gaze to the staircase. It was almost meager compared to the extremities of the rest of the castle. It was small, made only for function, not for aesthetic. The guard at the beginning of the steps cast him a wary glance, but all seemed well when Ganondorf nodded. As he climbed, he did not neglect to notice the eyes seething into his back.

The upper floor seemed barren compared to the lower. There was a small hallway connecting two rooms, horizontal to one another. Link peered at the large frame of the one to his left, but a voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned back.

“Can we go to my room first?” Riju asked Ganondorf.

“We’ll _only_ be going to your room,” he grumbled, leading the way.

A curtain of vines shrouded her room in great mystery, until Ganondorf brushed it aside.

The first thing that met Link’s gaze was the sand seal plush seated on the table before the bed. Its bright pink cloth was only amplified by the blazing rods of sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“Patricia,” Riju offered. She gestured to her bed, where another sand seal plush dominated the mattress. “And Patricia.”

_Two Patricias,_ Link noted as he waved at them.

“Okay! Now that you’ve met Patricia and Patricia, I wanna do something else!” She climbed onto the bed.

Ganondorf’s grin widened.

Link shot him a look before turning back to Riju. Her chubby face carried the biggest grin he had seen on her yet-whatever she wanted, he would do it, he decided.

“I wanna do your hair!”

Link blinked. Oh. That was all.

She patted the spot next to her, and Link was beside her no quicker than she had lifted her hand from the sheet.

“You’re gonna look so pretty! Oh, but you’re already pretty. I’m just saying you’re gonna look even prettier!” Her eyes crinkled around the edges.

Link giggled. He couldn’t help it. He unclasped the cloth obscuring his face, letting it fall onto the bed. Riju shot up to him, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

“Whoa!” Even Ganondorf was staring.

A cautious grin danced across his lips as he clasped his hand over the back of his neck, still spotted with sweat.

After she had ogled for an inappropriate amount of time, she finally took his hair in her hands; matted hair hung in the front, but she said nothing of it. Her fingers were working, combing through the stiffness and easing it around his face.

She was a child of many wonders. She left the castle at odd hours, had not one, but two Patrica dolls, and had Ganondorf for a brother.

And her latest wonder blossomed before her. The sweaty Hylian was no more-well, still sweaty, albeit less so-before her sat a beautiful vai. She had Link’s hair pulled up in a ponytail, tall on his head.

A proud ponytail for a humble Hylian.

“You look amazing!” Riju chirped, throwing her hands up.

“Gorgeous,” Ganondorf added.

Riju sprang into his arms, radiating gentle heat, soft against him. He froze for a moment, blinked, then, with the tenderness of one cradling a wounded soldier, pulled her to him, nuzzling into her neck. She smelled of vanilla and creote, light and warm and dark and heavy all at once.

As they curled into one another, he cast a glance at Ganondorf.

The sun shone right over his head, enveloping him in a blast of light. His face had softened from a hard stone to a clay, and Link’s breath caught in his throat when he noticed it.

There, seated on Ganondorf’s face, was a set of upturned lips.

He was _smiling._

Link drew Riju closer; then, he drew Ganondorf closer. They were still not touching, but it was a start.

It was a start.


	5. Fifth Memory

Time crawled on, the yellow illuminating the fringe of the curtains surrendering into a gentle orange. Link breathed out, his eyes sweeping over to Riju, cross legged in a sea of ruffled covers. 

“What should we do next? Swap jewelry?! Play seal wars? What do you think?” She turned to him, her irises glittering in the lamplight. Her hands danced against one another, frantic to hear his answer. 

Link bit his lip; His eyes stung around the edges, his eyelids drooping. His arm was lead as he raised it and gripped the Sheikah slate. 

‘I think,’ he wrote, his quill hesitant above the screen, ‘I need to go.’ 

Her head drooped. Her hands froze. “...oh.” 

In a heartbeat he wrote, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be back tomorrow.’ 

Her hands were rickety, ticking slow as the nights seemed to last. But they were ticking. 

She peered up at him, her gaze as hard as the gems adorning Ganondorf’s throne. “You promise?”

‘I swear.’

“ _Pinky_ swear?” 

Her pinky hung in the air, tiny and waiting for him to uphold his oath. The moment he looped his around hers, a thread of warmth-their promise, made-flashed through him. He nodded, meeting her eyes. 

The gemstones in her eyes softened under the heat. 

“Alright… bye-bye, Link.”

‘Bye-bye, Riju. Bye-bye, Patricas.’ 

Her giggle seemed to linger, settling in the back of his mind and tickling his skin like the bright sun’s rays. He would come back, alright. 

As he stood, his feet sizzling inside of his shoes, a voice broke out from the corner of the room. 

“Hero. Wait.” 

Link whipped around. He found himself staring not into the blazing eyes of a determined king, but those of a deer, as glassy and wide as the ones he had nearly mauled with his horse. 

Ganondorf rubbed his arm, the crease in his brow deeper than usual. His voice tiptoed toward him. 

“Will you not… meet me by the goddess statue when night falls?” 

Link could not stop his jaw from dropping. Ganondorf, the hulking pillar of authority, was extending an invitation toward him to-to what? 

“You don’t have to come,” he grumbled, as though he could sense Link’s hesitation. 

‘I’ll be there.’

His lips were still set in a straight line, but they twitched upward. “Very well. I’ll see you then.” 

His shoes were his only company, in a heap next to him. His jewelry nestled inside of the soles, having the privilege of sleep, whereas he did not. As he watched the fireflies climb up the wall, a terrible thought trickled into his mind. 

Ganondorf might have set him up for an attack. 

He studied the idea. Ganondorf was massive enough to take him without a weapon, and he was no doubt battle trained. Yet, if he had wanted to harm him, he would have on the first night. Was Ganondorf himself as violent as the spirits insisted Ganon was? 

Or was he fighting to keep an image, too?

His sword was heavy against his back.

As soon as he had felt it, a flicker of movement had Link’s eyes shooting to the side. Ganondorf stood before the arch, the lantern light washing his face with a docile yellow glow. Something about him was _different._

“You… came.” 

‘I said I would.’ 

Ganondorf nodded like it was his first time doing so. “That you did.”

Silence began to weave a web between them. 

And with the experience of a spider killing fanatic, Ganondorf ripped it away. 

“You were nice to my sister.” 

Link let a smile grow across his face. 

“I… she likes playing with you.” 

He nodded. 

“Though, I must ask: how did you two meet?”

‘She startled me. I nearly fell off of a wall.’ 

Ganondorf’s eyes crinkled. “Did she, now?” At once, laughter tumbled from his mouth, rumbling against the sky. His head was thrown back in joy. “Yes! Yes, that’s Makeela, alright!” 

A soft tickle scratched at the back of his throat, and soon, Link was chuckling along, it jittering about in his chest; about Riju and the walls she so casually knocked people off of, and of the amity between him and Ganondorf. blossoming in the air like a desert flower. 

“Haha!“ Ganondorf wheezed, hands clenched around his stomach. “She’s… she’s the devil, that one...”

Hand on fire, Link shoved his Sheikah slate into Ganondorf’s face. 

‘It must be because she’s related to one!’ 

The desert flower shriveled. 

Ganondorf opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, then shut it. Link gulped. 

_...too soon…_

“...is that a compliment, or an insult?” 

‘Compliment. Compliment.’ 

He ran a hand through his hair. “All right.” 

The spider resumed its web. 

This time, Link shoved it aside. ‘Did you like my jewelry?’ 

Ganondorf’s face lit up. “It was magnificent craftship! The splendor of the topaz shone against your hair, and-wait. Where on earth did you obtain the rupees to buy it?” 

‘Jade let me borrow it.’ 

“Ah.” Ganondorf leaned against the wall. “Jewelry is a sign of strength to the Gerudo. We reason, if one is wearing such an unbreakable stone, they too must be unbreakable. Did she tell you that?”

‘Something like that. Is that why you always wear so much of it?’ 

He yawned. “Mm. A king must be a barricade between danger and his people, so I am. There are none who would break through my wall.”

Link nodded. 

“Except, perhaps, for you.” 

His mouth went dry. He snatched up his quill, diving toward the screen, when Ganondorf slashed through his words. 

“Don’t.”

Link gazed up at him, lips ajar, fist white from clenching so hard. 

“You are the hero reborn in Hyrule in times of crisis. Zelda is the guide, reborn. And I… well, I suppose if you’re the hero, that makes me the _villain_ reborn.” 

Words pushed against Link’s throat, clawing up his esophagus. They were right on the tip of his tongue-he moved his lips to say them. 

And like always, nothing came out. 

Ganondorf turned toward the archway, back to the light. 

“You search for me, or I search for you. We meet. We fight. Only one of us is the victor. That is the cycle. And so long as we are trapped like we are, the cycle will go on.” 

Link didn’t try to write anything. There was nothing he _could_ write. 

“...why do you keep inching closer to me?”

Link shot up. 

“You know as well as I what is going to happen. So _why_?!” Ganondorf barked, spinning to face him, his lips pulled back in a sneer. His forehead was a minefield of creases, fists balled at his sides, and he seemed to have aged a century. 

Link fanned the flames of that campfire within him; the quill spoke for him. 

‘Why haven’t _you_ banished me from Gerudo Town?!’

A gasp punctured the wall of his confidence, but he was quick to fix the crack in that barrier. “It seems to have escaped you that while you are in my domain, I can do as I please with you!” 

‘So why haven’t you?!’ 

Ganondorf bit his lip. 

‘Are you afraid?’

A laugh, trampled through the sand and ground into dust forced its way out. “Of you? _Never._ You must be, for all the jewelry you wore today!”

A ball of magma formed in Link’s chest, scorching his heart. It thrummed through his fingers, beating like a drum on his brain. He gritted his teeth and sneered. 

‘Of _course_ I’m afraid, you asshole!’ 

Ganondorf froze. 

‘I’m scared of you! Terrified, even!’ His tears pricked against his eyes like needles, yet he did not stop writing. ‘But I’m more terrified of this cycle, and what’ll happen if we don’t break it!’ 

Ganondorf let his head hang, only glancing up to read the Sheikah slate shoved into his face. 

‘If we stay enemies just because fate wills it, we may as well give ourselves up to it! But I want to make my own way! I’ll be a hero for everyone in Hyrule, _and_ you!’ 

He heaved out a sigh, smooshing a rough elbow against his face to smear his tears. 

“...Link.”

Link hiccuped. 

The shakiness of uncertainty crept into Ganondorf’s voice. “You… you’ve been doing well.”

He peeked up. 

“Makeela really enjoys poultry, did I tell you that? As do I. So... “ His face scrunched up, like his body was labored to even say it. His teeth grated together, and he tugged his hair. “So… _sothankyouforbuyingitformeeventhoughyouhadnoobligationto!_ ”

Link wiped the last of his tears away, the burns fading into a residual warmth within him. 

“And because you have done something for me,” Ganondorf continued, “I would be remiss not to return the favor.” 

Link gasped, going to scribble again.

He cleared his throat. “There’s no need for that. Meet me at Jade’s tomorrow. We’re buying you a pair of shoes that actually fit.” 

Link felt like he had been held underwater before frantically making it up to the surface in an explosion of sunlight and breath. Dazed, he nodded. 

Ganondorf returned it. “Goodbye, Link.”

‘...goodbye, Ganondorf.’ 

On the far end of the wall, shrouded in shadow, a desert flower peeked through the crevice.


	6. Sixth Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this chapter, I'd just like to thank everybody who has left hits, kudos, and bookmarks on this story! It means a lot to me to know that people are interested in reading it. We're nearly halfway through! :D

Standing in front of Jade’s had never caused an eel to slither up Link’s stomach before; he’d never twiddled his thumbs so feverishly, felt the nip of his shoes so harshly, nor had he glanced around so often-the town was an eclipse of noise and a sea of people. 

None of them were Ganondorf, though. Maybe he wasn’t coming.

_No,_ he chastised himself, shaking his head. Kings were busy folk, of course, and Ganondorf had people to lead. He heaved a sigh, his shoulders drooping as the weight of distrust fell off of them. 

_Meet me at Jade’s tomorrow,_ he’d said. So he would. He could wait for him. 

As his side hit the cool texture of the sandstone, he shivered, watching as the vendors set down their items and curled up in the embrace of their stalls. He huffed and went to settle in when a familiar voice tumbled through the air, squeaky and commanding:

“Liiiiiiinnnnkkk!” 

He shot off of the wall like it had turned smoldering and dove toward them. Almost immediately, though, he came to a clattering halt-shoes digging into the ground-as he came nose to nose with Riju. 

“Hi!” she chirped like they were a comfortable distance apart. 

He scrambled back. Then, he brought up a hesitant hand in a wave. 

A hearty chuckle, sounding like leaping rocks against one’s throat, brought Link’s eyes up to the person he’d been waiting for; Ganondorf, whose arms were crossed in front of him, leaning on his right leg, donning a smile. The canine that poked out from underneath seemed exactly like a fang. 

Link did not neglect to hear the clattering of things being scooped up or shoved to the ground. Save for a wince, Ganondorf did not seem affected. 

“Hello, hero. Excited, hm?” 

He laughed, small and shaky, but he laughed. Ganondorf’s eyes softened around the edges as Link nodded, the slight bounce in his feet reminding him of Riju’s enthusiasm. 

The surge of the two toward the entrance of the shop, however, trampled his own; he stood stiller than a statue, peering into the dimly lit cave of the establishment. Given all of his jewels, one would assume he’d been there many times-in truth, he knew nothing past the pillar perched in front of the entrance, the throne of the diamond circlet. 

“Coming, Ganondorf?” The sound was fuzzy against his ears, the same way it was when he braved a sandstorm. Except this was not something he felt he could fight. He had never staved it off before, not in this lifetime or in one previous. His mind succumbed to it.

The shop, he thought, would be filled and filled with _things._ Jewels, of course, but also, a pump of energy up his throat told him, the tiny trinkets lining the counter. The colorful weave that draped over the edge would clash with the environment of his room, but it was something. Something to own, and something to steal. 

The shopkeeper herself, well, he had nothing against her. Yet he had nothing for her, either. She must have been brimming with rupees. So what if he snagged a thing or two? 

When he moved forward, the weight in his chest had been pushed off to the side; it was a constant pressure against his clavicle, but it seemed obscure compared to the pulsating of his fingers, which he planned to wrap around whatever was in sight. 

Like a drunkard newly intoxicated, Ganondorf stumbled forward, past the threshold of morality and self control, and into a haven of material good. 

Link noticed the splendor on his face right away. Guilt sweltered inside of him, unraveling like a ball of yawn as he accepted that it was probably not astonishment at the luxury of the items. Given the poultry incident and the greed that Ganondorf naturally possessed, no item was safe. 

He’d just have to keep an eye on him, for now. 

“What is _he_ doing in here?!” 

Forced out of his thoughts, he snapped up and saw her, hands on hips, lip jutted out. The sneer she wore seemed so out of place in an establishment shrouded in pale yellow light and warm lanterns-then again, so was the hulking Gerudo King who’d had to duck to even get through the doorway. 

“You know that I’ll have the guards in here in a second if you don’t-” 

Link intercepted her, becoming Ganondorf’s shield. His eyes were hard, focused, taking in every twitch she made-his heart hammered in a way it had only done as a child, struggling to lift the sword he was born to wield, unacquainted with the tang of blood and the slimy texture against his skin, who had never met the person he was fated to defeat-a child who had not seen the shakiness of his facade, and his gratitude over a mere piece of poultry. 

That child had been told that enemies were the hardest to face. Not friends. 

The words sweltered inside of him, pushing against his teeth that gated them. _He stays._

Jade’s lips crumpled against one another, her hands falling to her sides. 

Riju broke her silence. “He won’t steal anything. We’re just here for some shoes.” 

Her voice wavered in her throat, and her eyes did not leave Ganondorf, not for a moment, but as fragile as it was, the tone of business had weaved itself back in. “For whom?” 

“Link! They’re too tight on her.” 

That jolted her, ripping her gaze away from Ganondorf, who was practically salivating. _“What?_ You seemed fine when you first got them.” 

A coy chuckle shook him, a crooked smile across his face. The pinch against his heel was reborn in his mind, sizzling like a newly lit cooking pot. It was a mere physical pain; nothing he couldn’t handle. Nobody but him would be bothered by it. There was no use in confiding in anybody about it. 

Until now. 

“Your shoes weren’t fitting, and you said nothing about it,” she repeated, cocking a brow. 

He slumped. 

Her eyes darted to Ganondorf, who had hyper fixated on the small basket seated next to the weave spilling over the edge of the counter, then back to the deflated Hylian shuffling her feet. 

With a sigh that could rival the monstrous gusts of winds across the desert, Jade pinched the bridge of her nose. “...alright. Well, no use in scolding you now that you’re here for new ones. I just can’t-” She peered over to Ganondorf again. “You-” The sandstorm of words within her were tumbling away from her, and she could no longer grasp them. That left one thing for her to do.

Assist her customers. 

As if she could sense this, Riju piped up. 

“What colors do you have?”


	7. Seven Memory

In the end, Link’s shoes changed only in size. 

“I thought we were gonna pick out a cool design!” Riju huffed. 

‘But we did! They match my clothes, _and_ they fit!’ Link assured her, wagging his foot in front of her, the gold encrusted soles casting a box of light onto her face in the fiery heat. 

Her cheeks remained puffed, but the air trickled out of them like a steady yet slow moving river, and her eyes were no longer narrowed-instead of an infuriated chipmunk, he stared at one who was mildly annoyed. 

Ganondorf was blind to this deflation. Where his broad shoulders seemed to uphold the skyline, they were slumped, wilted leaves of an overripe hydromelon. He had eaten not an hour before this expedition, yet hunger gnawed at his insides until they were a squeezing, restricting mess. He hadn’t taken anything. Not one single item. 

But he felt no better having not. In fact, _his_ pockets had been taken from; four hundred rupees had been snatched from his palm. _It’s for Link,_ he had thought, yet the unmistakable clench of grief had wrung his heart as they left him. They’d settled onto the same counter as the colorful weave, taunting him with their glimmer. A gust of cold air slammed into his spine.

He couldn’t even shiver. 

Even with his face buried into the crook of his arm, set up against the darkness he had created for himself to stare into, he knew when _he_ approached him. 

He didn’t look up. 

A touch enveloped his arm, and he jolted. It leapt away almost as soon as he had felt it, but he was sure it had been there. 

“Ganondorf?” 

He didn’t respond-until two tiny tepid hands wrapped around his bicep and shook. 

“Ganondorf!” 

He would have grunted if the sides of his throat weren’t desperately reaching out to one another, constricting his voice and forcing his thoughts down. He did manage to glance up, though, and even from his cavern of darkness, the mellow sheen of yellow lined the edge of his arm. In the moment he let himself look, Link met his gaze and reached out. 

“Link got new shoes! You should look! They’re really pretty!” 

His eyes dropped Link’s feet, which were now protected by light blue shoes. The sheen bouncing off of them produced by the light brought his mind back to the rupees he had shelled out so he could have them, and he couldn’t help but scowl at them, at the gnawing, yet after a moment the feeling evaporated. Loneliness settled into his chest, barren and unwelcome. 

Link’s pupil’s narrowed in a way that made him aware that what invaded him had been seen. His fists clenched. _Nothing gets by you, eh, hero?_

Ganondorf went to settle back in when Riju tugged him again. “Come on! Ganondorf!...” Her voice faltered. “...are you sick?”

Her head whipped and she and Link were connected by a thread of concern. “I think he’s sick!” 

He didn’t correct her, because she was right. They both all knew it-even if it wasn’t physical. 

_I can’t be cured,_ threatened to tumble from his lips, but he bit back the words. The last thing he needed Riju to think was that he was destined for death. 

He was, but she didn’t have to be reminded. He was practically already a corpse. 

At the second, much bigger tug on his other arm, he let himself be yanked up. 

“We should go home and get him in bed!”

He had a feeling that Link would agree. 

His feeling was validated when, after stumbling blindly for what seemed like an hour but was likely only a minute or two, he saw the stairs of the castle- _his_ castle-settled beneath his sandals. 

The sight of it would, on most days, make his heart spill with pride. It had been built by the Gerudo centuries ago to house their most prolific chiefs. They alone would inhabit this place, framed by the strongest sandstone in the desert and swarmed with gems and niceties and all the things that he and Riju had grown up with.

When he had been born, though, he had infected it. For all their shimmer, the jewels could not wash out the blight that owned them. The bile rushed up his throat. He didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve anything. 

He lurched forward, but the arms around him were steady. One shaky step after another, he was led up the stairs. He tripped over himself ascending the second set of stairs, and murky whispers swam by his ears. _Noble Canteen,_ he pieced together just as they reached the top. 

“His is that one!” 

His legs went numb as he was assisted into the space he liked to call his own; the curtain of beads that he had put together himself clacked together. Riju had wanted to help, he recalled. But he’d only let her watch. He hadn’t needed her to do anything. 

It was his work, and his alone. 

A hiss sizzled beside his ear, and he caught on something on the floor, falling forward. His hands slammed in front of him, digging into a pile of seemingly discarded items-there were dolls, a weapon stand laying on its side, and clothes- _women’s_ clothes-scattered about. And that was only one spot. 

He had been right to feel sick. He was disgusting. 

A hand gripped his bicep, easing him up, while a small body shoved into his back to get him to stand. He did. 

Then he tumbled onto his bed. The sheet was already thrown back, crinkled like an old sheet of paper where it lay. Just another reminder of how incompetent he was. 

He curled into himself, and that was when he felt them. Tears. They burned his eyes, dragging his weakness out of his body and forcing him to acknowledge it. 

“It’s dirty…” murmured a far off voice. 

_I know._

Silence penetrated every inch of the space. 

Until someone shifted. The covers that lay neglected were pulled up over his torso, tucked around his sides perfectly. There was a tiny hand on his shoulder. 

“Night, Ganondorf… or, um, day,” came a soft giggle from behind him. 

Two steady palms rested on his back, and this time, they didn’t leave. 

Even as the tears fell and he shook pathetically, sucking in desperate breaths, they didn’t leave. 

When he finally shivered from the cold- _his_ cold, the hands were there to warm him. Like a campfire. 

He couldn’t help but huddle to them as he was thrown into the dark of sleep.


	8. Eighth Memory

Enormous though he was, Link had not expected Ganondorf to look even bigger against the tiny mattress that was his bed. He slept on a slant, given the angle it had been forced into, and it seemed he would slide off at any moment. 

The floor around the bed was a crumbling empire of junk-there really was no other word for it. Beads were scattered by Link’s feet, clothes that were far too small for Ganondorf to fit over his chin peeking out from the cavern where the bottom of the mattress met the floor. Something was stuffed in there, but he had no desire to discover what. 

Another glance around the room would reinforce the trash utopia that it was. The walls were slathered in shadows of blocky shapes, triangle shapes, octagonal shapes, more shapes than Link had ever consciously been aware of being in one place at the same time. 

His eyes trickled over the shiny lamps strewn about, the dolls sprawled on the floor with their hair done up perfectly, and at least ten empty glasses, smudged with stains of all colors, before landing on the one thing that showed signs of use. 

Hanging over the bed of the enormous king was a sword display.

“He uses them a lot,” Riju cut in. 

Link nodded. The single sword there was as massive as its owner, fitted to him perfectly; it was as intricate as he had expected, the width of the sharpened metal topped with gold. Swirled upon it were bridges of bright yellow. He could only imagine how it must reflect the sun-or moon’s-light.

“He uses them a lot,” she repeated, but her voice was as sharp as the blade itself. 

He knew that voice; Zelda danced daggers upon her tongue in that tone. The moment he saw the shine of the silver in Riju’s mind, he prepared himself. 

“He uses them too much.” She paused, her fingers stroking up her arm much like a mother would run her hand through a child’s hair. “I’m never invited when he does. I’m never invited to… anything.”

He recalled that little girl shrouded in the dawn’s pale light, wandering. Wandering but never finding. Like a ghost. 

“And I…” 

He squinted, bracing for the impact. 

“...I… dunno.” 

The flash had dulled, blunted by her words’ weakness. But he could see it in the back of her mind, up on her own display; a sword that would one day be pointed at Ganondorf, ready for her whetstone of wit and courage. 

He reached out, reached past the display and to the girl curled behind it. He patted that little girl on the head, kneeled in front of her for a blink of time. 

_You don’t have to do it now. It’s okay._

He thought a little deeper. 

You’re _okay._

Then he patted the girl walking beside him on the head, and he could tell his words had reached her because she exhaled and drew closer to him. He could tell she took it to heart because she reached out to him, too. She let him wrap his big hand around hers-it was small, actually, but big to a little girl-and they walked like that up to her room. 

One day, he knew. They both did, really. But not today. 

Once he loosened up, lured into a sense of comfort beside her, his mind shoved forward an image that he had hidden away until then:

A black mass of clouds that carried the head of a colossal beast, red with rage and with a horn for a sword. He studied it, zoomed it on it. 

This, he had been told, was Ganon. 

If that was true, then that meant that the tiny figure, red with determination in a billowy blue tunic, his blade cast out before him, was him. The hero. 

The Master Sword shimmered at the memory. He dampened. 

“Link?”

He glanced down at her, then away. Her eyes were so wide, so bright. It seemed as if a galaxy lay within them, each star representing her hopes and dreams. Her hope that she would not be overtaken by deathly loneliness. Her dream that she and her brother would finally, truly, talk. 

If things went the way he suspected they would, he would annihilate that solar system. He would suck it into a black hole of murder. 

Her hand suddenly didn’t feel so comforting. He let go.

And she curled her fingers back around his. 

“You don’t know either, do you?” she whispered. 

He wobbled, drunk as Ganondorf had appeared mere hours ago. It was a slimy sensation settling into the hollow of his skull, infiltrating his brain. It was very much intoxicating. He wanted to puke it up, even if it meant an infuriated stomach roaring for food. He wanted to bash his head into a wall, even if it meant he’d have a headache that ripped his head in two and left him screaming. 

He wanted the feeling _gone_. 

The feeling, he realized, was not acceptance. It was denial. Denial of what he had to be. Of what had to happen. 

His lips moved, as if to speak. 

_I don’t want to be the hero._ He wavered, and tiny hands grappled around his leg. He looked down at the little girl fighting to pull him back to her. 

_I don’t want to hurt you._

Then, the sensation clogged his head and his heart, and he would have spewed it up if he could. His tongue leapt back and forth in his throat like it was trying to heave something out. But the only thing that was there resided in his empty chest. 

_I have to be the hero._

_I have to hurt you._

And he, too, collapsed. 

Then the denial crept back into him, hiding in his endocardium. But even after all this, even after his enemy had a name and face and a mountain of potential behind him, he would kill him. And he knew it. He and Ganondorf both knew it. 

It would not happen now. It would not happen soon.

But it would happen sometime. 

Even his light could not penetrate the darkness behind his eyelids.


	9. Ninth Memory

The darkness consumed every inch of the world. That was what it seemed like. 

It was silent, too, save for the constant wail of isolation. 

His eyes pounded like beady drums, dull with sharp crust and emptiness-and realization. Gods, the _realization._ It was a beastly shrill in the cavern of his chest, rocketing off the walls with no place to go. It was too deep, too shrouded in darkness.

The yellow square of daylight seemed far, far away. 

He was slung out of his daze with the shrill of a massive door-he whipped around, and threw himself out of bed. He nearly slammed side first into the floor, but his legs brought him forward as though he’d been smooth as a cat. His hand grappled at his side, only for an expanse of air to taunt his fingers. His gaze darted, but only for a moment. He’d have to go without, for now. He’d have to-

Then he noticed the deep orange glow of the candle. Following soon after, he gazed upon the person holding it, adorning a topaz necklace that radiated light. 

“...hello to you, too, Link.”

Ganondorf stared down at him, brow cocked, as though he had pointed a sword at his breast while donning a bokoblin mask. 

He figured he looked ridiculous with or without the mask, if the sharp locks of hair jutting out from his sides were anything to go by-the mat obscuring half of his vision was a good indicator, too. 

Ganondorf slipped by him, balancing the candle on the sturdiest thing in the room, a book that was only a stack away from ground level. If Ganondorf had any reservations about the candle catching fire, he did not voice them, instead settling onto the now empty bed. 

The bed, Link noted, that was at an absurd angle. One he should have fallen right off of. Ganondorf’s.

“I trust you slept well?”

Link could only nod. 

“...good.”

Ganondorf’s head dipped down, and it was then that Link saw them. 

The Master Sword’s splendor was a paragon of hope, blinding blue and yellow, his entire destiny trapped inside its prism of bravery. The bravery he’d wished he could upchuck, or rip out of his skull, or give back to Hylia. 

There was nothing to do for it, now. 

Beside it, leaning against the hilt, was Ganondorf’s sword. It was dark compared to his, but he was not surprised. A blade forged by a goddess, born from the heavens themselves, would burn holes into the eyes of anyone who stared at it too long-except him.

Still, the gentle glow of Ganondorf’s massive sword was a nice change of pace, one he did not look upon and remember what had been decided for him, what he had to work for no matter what. 

Ganondorf’s head blocked the display again, and Link met his eye. 

“I’m sorry for the… odd boarding. I didn’t want you to wake in an unfamiliar environment.” 

There were about a thousand other ways he could have said “I wanted to be the first thing you saw when you woke.” Link’s shoulders settled, the ache of what he had been carrying eased, for now.

At that moment, he decided he wasn’t going to look at Ganondorf in any way other than himself. A proud king, who was perhaps not as confident as he let on, who had become more than a monster to him. Much, much more.

“...why are you smiling in a place like this?”

Link couldn’t control it. He was _beaming._

The destiny that had been forged for them, it was unavoidable. He knew that much. But if he could make any decision, choose something for himself, it would be to continue to be by Ganondorf’s side. He was just too… _Ganondorf_ to leave. 

He did not fight as Link unclasped his jewels and held them in his hands. The front was cold, but the backside, where it had lain next to Ganondorf’s heart, was warm. 

Even in the room crawling with shadows, barely lit, save for the pulsating of an orange flame, where he was uncertain, he felt at peace with a part of himself. A part that was terrified at the unknown, a part that was not a hero. 

A part where he was just Link, a comically short boy with a bad case of bedhead. Who was cradling Ganondorf’s necklace like a newborn. 

Ganondorf’s gentle chuckles filled his ears. 

“You look… crazy right now.” He passed over his Sheikah slate, nestled beside the books. 

He cupped it in his hands, pursing his lips before writing:

‘So what if I am?’

“Then I would have a very accurate intuition.” 

Link snorted, slapping his arm with a dull thud. 

“Watch yourself,” Ganondorf threatened with a smirk, “or off with your head.”

‘You wouldn’t know how to aim at this time of night.’

“You’ve yet to see my swordwork. Overconfidence is a slow killer.”

Link’s belly became light with laughter, even his inability to form words allowed him that. It tickled his sides, rushing past his tongue with a sort of triumph, in the last place he expected to be, yet was right at home at. 

Ganondorf turned, eyes bright with the glimmer of a child, and his face was illuminated like a jack-o-lantern. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” He looked back over at Link. “We’ve never really sat down together, you and I… and Riju.” 

‘What about the shoes?’

“A business trip, nothing more. I was thinking about fun things. Like chopping off heads and relishing in the screams of the innocent by a campfire.”

It _was_ pitch black out… and who would stop them? Why would anyone want to?

‘Let’s do it.’ 

Ganondorf’s laughter rumbled like thunder. “That quickly?”

Link nodded. 

“And what if I took the chance to ambush you?”

‘You can do it, just not in front of Riju.’ 

“Well, now that I’ve got your permission… grab your sword. Meet me outside.” 

The necklace glowed in Link’s hands like an oath being made. 

“I promise I’ll be out soon.”


End file.
